Two Weeks
by Down By The River
Summary: A one-shot based on the movie Two Weeks Notice.


I do not own Glee or Two Weeks Notice.

* * *

Sam Evans carefully hitched up the pant legs on his $3000 designer suit before he sat down, smoothing the fabric out against his thighs after he was seated. He then snapped his wrists out ahead of him to adjust the gold cufflinks in his sleeves and took a moment to just sit and survey his polished ebony desk, his eyes scanned over the smooth wood to make sure everything was where he liked it.

Which wasn't the way he'd left it, of course. Sam had taken to leaving his things in a state of disarray, knowing that his assistant would take care of it for him if he asked her. Sam smiled when he saw that the woman had indeed tidied his desk, resharpened and slightly blunted his pencils the way he liked them, laid out his schedule for the following day and… yes. She'd even left him the Oreos and milk he'd phoned at 6am this morning to tell her he wanted. Mercedes Jones was the absolute _best_ assistant Sam had ever had. A blessing after the string of, quite frankly, rather incompetent, no hopers Sam had ended up firing after a few short weeks. Miss Jones, on the other hand, had been with him now for something approaching a year. She was perfect, and there was no _way_ he would be firing her now.

Sam smiled to himself. His brother had forced him to look outside the usual pool that he hired from when Sam had let the last one go after just five days, Ruth or Rachel or Rose or… _Roger?_ Sam couldn't remember. The point was that they had been useless - and annoying - he at least remembered that much.

He'd been coming out of his office saying goodbye to some young, potential assistant with a law degree that had probably been printed off the Internet. That was when Sam had run into her - Mercedes Jones - like a gift sent from administrative heaven. She'd been dressed in some hideous, brightly coloured animal print, and kept trying to push some petition or other under his nose while she'd wittered on about some Community Centre. Sam hadn't been paying her much heed until she'd said something in Lawyerese and caught his attention.

 _'Have you been to law school?'_

 _Mercedes had blinked at him owlishly, his question throwing her completely off track with her spiel._

 _'Well,_ yes _ **,**_ _but what I_ really _wanted to talk to you about is the community centre…'_

 _'Which one?' Sam had interrupted again, his green eyes keen on her now._

 _Her face lit up like a candle as she relaunched into her speech. 'It's called McKinley,' she began, pointing something out on the clipboard she held in front of his face. 'It's a wonderful building at the centre of the community and…'_

 _'Which_ **law school** _.' Sam corrected, not really interested in hearing about old buildings._

 _Mercedes' smile had faltered, but she'd ploughed on regardless, trying to turn the conversation back to McKinley. 'Harvard, but, you see, the_ community centre _is home to…'_

 _'Harvard…' Sam had said, completely ignoring the rest of her speech. 'Have you heard of LaLanga Law School?'_

 _Mercedes frowned, not sure where Mr. Evans was going with this but certain somehow that it had little to do with the community centre his company was trying to knock down._

 _'No, I haven't. But going back to the_ _ **Community Centre**_ _…'_

 _They'd been interrupted then, by some junior office assistant wanting Sam to choose between two seemingly identical envelopes. Sam had excused himself from the woman for a moment, but she'd come to find him five minutes later while he was still staring from one envelope to another, trying to spot the difference that was apparently eluding him._

 _'What are their names again?' Sam had asked the assistant, hoping that something in their names would help him. Maybe one would be called 'Royal' or something._

 _'"White Satin" and "Satiny White".' the assistant had supplied helpfully and Sam had returned his gaze to the identical slips of paper in his hands and wondered why the hell someone else couldn't make this decision._

 _'Mr. Evans?' The woman in the loud outfit had reappeared at his elbow again, 'If I could just finish telling you about McKinley then I'll be out of your…'_

 _'Which one do you prefer?' Sam had interrupted, turning to face her with an envelope in each hand._

 _'I… what?' The woman shot the handsome blond a look like he was crazy before she sighed and stared at the items in his hands. Finally she plucked one from between his long fingers and licked the back of it, pausing to savour the taste before she did the same with the other._

 _'That one.' She pointed to the envelope in his left hand, 'It tastes nicer. Now as I was saying…' She seamlessly continued with her patter as Sam experimentally licked both envelopes himself._

 _'You see, not only does McKinley offer dance lessons and Children's Self-Defence classes. It also holds Bridge clubs and Bingo evenings. There's even a pool and a Senior Citizen's Water Polo team.' She went on, picking up speed when she noticed that Sam wasn't interrupting her. 'It's been part of our community for over 70 years and I…'_

 _'_ Fascinating.'

 _Sam looked at the brown-skinned young woman with interest. The envelope she'd picked out actually_ did _taste better, and Sam handed that one off to the assistant with a nod._

 _'It really is!' Mercedes went on, the cheer re-entering her voice at his perceived enthusiasm._

 _'I myself grew up going there, and I still go there now. It really does have something for all ages, and it would be a complete travesty for you to knock it down. That's why I'm urging you to reconsider your company's plans to redevelp the site.'_

 _Mercedes' shoulders hunched up as she prepared to get to the crux of her argument._

 _'I mean, how many more shopping centres do we need, Mr. Evans? Your company owns another one just over the bridge, not even ten miles away! You'd be overestimating the demand and risking putting your_ own venture _out of business. People don't_ _ **need**_ _a new shopping mall, Mr. Evans, they need their_ old _community centre!'_

 _The woman leaned back, her chest heaving after her impassioned speech, and Sam regarded her with appraisal as the wheels began to turn in his head._

 _She'd misinterpreted his comment earlier. Sam's fascination had nothing to do with the centre the woman kept going on about, and everything to do with the woman herself. She had a law degree - from Harvard, no less - and she was clearly very practical (her clothing choices not withstanding). Not to mention she must have been sharp as a Sushi chef's knife if she'd managed to get in to talk to him without an appointment…_

 _'Miss, um…'_

 _'Mercedes Jones.'_

 _'Right,' Sam had nodded his lips pursed as he looked down at the short woman in front of him. 'Would you like a job, Miss Jones?'_

 _Mercedes' nose had wrinkled up in disgust and the clipboard had swung up again, no doubt ready to talk about how many jobs the damned centre provided._

 _'I have a job, thank you.' She'd told him primly before attempting to point out something on a small line drawing of a building pinned to the clipboard._

 _'Now, this is…'_

 _'Where?'_

 _Mercedes had let out an exasperated sigh and dropped the clipboard to glare at him._

 _"_ Legal Aid. _Now if we can get back to_ McKinley _.'_

 _'I can pay you at_ **least** _double what you'd be earning at Legal Aid.' Sam scoffed, his eyes on Miss Jones', surprisingly sweet, round face._

 _'I don't want your corporate money, thank you!' Mercedes had scoffed back, turning fully to face the tall CEO for the first time since she'd cornered him on the way to his office._

 _It had been Sam's turn to frown then, and he'd folded his arms across his chest as he tried to figure out what else he could use as an incentive. Money had always worked before. Sam supposed that he_ could _just give up, but he had a feeling that this_ Mercedes Jones _was the one for him. He was certain that she'd make the perfect assistant, and that thing with the envelopes had been inspired._

 _'What do you want, then?' Sam had tipped his head to the side curiously. He was fairly certain he could provide whatever it was she asked for. He was a multi-billionaire with ventures around the world, after all. He could handle it._

 _Mercedes' brown eyes had narrowed at him. 'I don't_ want _anything you can..'_

 _Suddenly, Sam realised exactly what it was he could offer her, it had been staring him in the face this whole time!_

 _'Carney!' he snapped his fingers, excitedly as he waited for Miss Jones to get excited._

 _Mercedes stared at him blankly. 'What?'_

 _'The community centre place?' Sam's eyebrows lowered doubtfully. 'You want to save it, right?'_

 _If ever Mercedes had needed any more confirmation that Mr. Big Corporation Worldwide: Sam Evans hadn't been listening to her, it was that._

 _'_ _ **McKinley**_ _.' she said very deliberately, propping one hand up on her wide hips. 'And of_ course _I do, that's the whole reason I'm here.'_

 _Sam beamed, and the change in his face was so sudden that Mercedes could only blink up at him for a few seconds before she told herself to snap out of it and stop being a slave to her hormone-driven societally-programmed attraction to a handsome face._

 _Mercedes was fairly certain that Sam Evans wouldn't even_ **be** _that handsome if society hadn't told her he was._

 _… No, that was a lie. She'd probably still think he was handsome._

 _'I'll make you a deal, Miss. Jones.' Sam Evans leisurely shoved his hands in his silk-lined pockets. 'You come work for me and I'll save your community centre.'_

She'd demanded time to think about it, of course, Sam thought, remembering. But then she'd had a contract drawn up that stipulated that she would only have to stay for a year to guarantee the preservation of the McKinley Community Centre and she'd been working for him ever since.

She pretended to be annoyed with him a lot of the time, but Sam was pretty sure that sometimes Mercedes actually… actually…

That was when Sam's eyes finally fell on the long, thin and brilliantly white envelope sitting starkly against the dark varnished wood of his expensive desk.

His name was written on it in elegant cursive, and Sam felt his spine stiffen with dread as he instantly recognised the handwriting.

It couldn't… _she_ couldn't… he quickly calculated the months in his head and felt a knot begin to form in the pit of his stomach.

'Miss Jones!' Sam yelled without taking his eyes off the offending stationary. Maybe if he didn't open it he could pretend he hadn't found it?

He was seriously contemplating sweeping the letter into the bin or running it through the shredder when Mercedes Jones' unimpressed face appeared around the doorframe, quickly followed by her impressive body.

She didn't look happy, standing there in the middle of his expansive office on the top floor of Evans Enterprises, Worldwide. In fact, she looked like she was politely resisting the urge to throw Sam out the window.

Sam's eyes flicked back to the envelope in front of him and he gingerly slid it off the desk, waving it at the short, curvy woman as calmly as he could while asking, 'Miss Jones, what is _this_?'

Mercedes' chin tipped a fraction of an inch higher as her gaze ranged between the envelope in Sam's raised hand and the man completely failing to keep his distress off his face. It was a handsome face, if you liked that kind of blond, All-American, could be a model thing. Mercedes had liked it once. _Had._

'It's my two weeks notice.' Mercedes folded her arms across her chest, wordlessly letting her boss know that this was not a subject that was open to negotiation.

She should have known that Sam didn't respect boundaries.

'It bloody well is _not!_ ' he tried to shove the offending item into her folded arms without much luck. 'Take it back.'

'No.' Mercedes folded her arms tighter into her, making sure there was no gap into which Sam could slide her resignation letter.

'But, _Mercedes_ …' Sam stammered, shaking his head as he tried to tell himself that _this was not happening_. It was _**not**_ _._

'You _can't._ '

Mercedes frowned, but her eyes softened as she took in Sam's completely dejected face.

'I _can,_ Sam. We agreed I had to work for you for a year before you would pull the plug on your McKinley redevelopment plan. In two weeks time it'll be a year, so there's my notice.'

She bobbed her perfectly groomed head at the letter Sam was still clutching unopened in his large hand.

'But…' Sam shook his head, his expertly cut blond hair whipping across his forehead. 'But we're _partners.'_ he protested, thinking back to how effortlessly things worked when Mercedes was around. 'We have fun… Don't we?'

The small woman let out an incredulous laugh before dropping her hands to fold them in front of her.

'No, Sam.' she told him kindly. ' _You_ have fun. Maybe. _I_ get driven crazy.'

Sam frowned, going over to his desk to throw the horrid envelope down in front of his computer before he propped himself up against the edge of the wood.

'Really?' His brow furrowed as he tried to figure out if what Mercedes' was saying was true.

'What about that time we went to Tennessee together?' he asked after a moment of thought. 'That was fun, wasn't it?'

Mercedes shook her head. 'Not really. _You_ went to Tennessee, and then called me - _during my best friend's wedding -_ to tell me that there was an emergency and I had to be ready to take the chopper you were sending for me in 30 minutes.'

Sam winced at the memory. He hadn't known about the wedding part, although he did remember thinking that Mercedes looked very nice in her midnight blue satin gown, if a bit too dressy for Tennessee in the summertime.

'Sorry about that.' he apologised belatedly. He couldn't remember anything else going wrong on that trip though. 'I don't remember there being an emergency, though.'

'You wanted to impress your family by cooking breakfast,' Mercedes supplied. 'And then you remembered that you didn't know how. You called me to do it.'

Sam winced, it did sound a bit excessive now that she mentioned it, but they'd had fun messing about in the kitchen together. He'd found some of his old clothes for Mercedes to change into and they'd had some laughs. Actually, Sam had laughed more than he had in a long time while she'd been showing him how to make various simple dishes. She'd looked rather fetching in his old football tees from high school too, as Sam recalled.

'What about that double's tennis match we played against my cousin and his wife?' Sam suggested, sinking into the wood slightly as he realised that there really were an uncomfortable number of occasions where he'd taken Mercedes for granted.

'You got hit in the head with a tennis ball and passed out.' Mercedes reminded him, her brow creasing as a small smile played on her lips.

Oh yeah, that _had_ happened, Sam remembered. The memory was a little hazy, but he _did_ recall that Mercedes had held his hand in the ambulance and he'd only had to stay in the hospital for a few hours.

Sam snapped his fingers. 'We go shopping!' he pointed out, taking in the tasteful burgundy pencil skirt and cream coloured pussy-bow blouse Mercedes was wearing at the moment. 'We bought that outfit!'

Mercedes resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Sometimes it seemed like Sam had a selective memory. 'You insisted I buy new clothes because, and I quote, "multicoloured animal print gave you a headache"'

Oh… Ok, so he'd said that too… but in his defence, Sam hadn't known Mercedes very long then. And the neon animal print really _had_ made his head hurt.

'Ok.' Sam nodded, 'fair point. I'm a terrible boss.'

Instead of denying it like he'd secretly hoped she would, Mercedes just nodded furiously along with him in agreement. 'You are.'

'Mercedes!'

'The _worst._ ' his assistant expanded, ' _Truly_ awful.'

Sam shook his head, trying to regain _some_ semblance of dignity as he edged back behind his desk so that Mercedes could sink into the soft chair that had been positioned opposite.

'Am I really that bad?' Sam asked her curiously, his sage coloured eyes on Mercedes' dancing brown ones as he spoke.

'Yes!' Mercedes crossed one curvy, stockinged leg over the other and wiggled a tiny bit as she settled herself in the seat across from him. 'I don't sleep well anymore because you call me during the middle of the night to ask me things. And when you _don't_ call,' she went on, 'I wake up anyway because I'm _dreaming_ about you calling!'

Sam's eyes lit up with interest and his eyebrows unconsciously twitched upwards.

' _Not like that.'_ Mercedes insisted, cutting off his line of thinking before it could go too far.

'That wedding I ducked out of for your so-called "emergency"?' Mercedes asked, 'Tina wouldn't talk to me for _two months_ after that. _I was the maid of honour, Sam.'_

Sam frowned and loosened his tie. 'Well, if you were the maid of honour, why on earth did you come to Tennessee?'

'Because you said it was an _emergency_!' Mercedes groaned loudly, throwing her hands up in exasperation. 'We even _discussed_ what counts as an emergency before you left. Someone had to be dying _,_ on Death Row _,_ or dead in your god-damned bed, bath or pool!'

Mercedes blinked at him, unable to understand how "I don't know how to cook", fell into _any_ of those categories. Yeah, she'd had a good time with him while she was actually there, and his family were such sweethearts she wondered how on _earth_ they were related to Sam, but that didn't change the fact that she was missing her best friend's wedding reception for it. Mercedes gave an inward sigh, _At least she'd managed to stay for the ceremony._

Sam bit his lip guiltily and picked up a cookie to distract himself from the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. He carefully twisted the two halves apart, wordlessly handing Mercedes the half with the cream on it before dunking the plain half into the milk and biting into it.

'I'm sorry.' he told her after a while, and meant it.

Mercedes sighed and nodded slowly. 'I know you are, _now._ But the point was that you didn't even _consider_ that I might want to have a life outside of this job at the time. I can admit that you aren't as bad now, but a lot of the time I feel like you _still_ don't.'

Mercedes handed Sam the other half of the cookie, now that she'd eaten the filling, and accepted the other cream covered half that Sam handed her.

'You are a healthy, full-grown man. You don't _need_ me to be on call for you 24/7.'

Sam nodded. She was right, of course, it was just that… these days the idea of doing _anything_ without getting Mercedes involved just felt _wrong_.

'I don't want to accept this.' Sam told Mercedes sadly, playing with the envelope in front of him.

'I know.' Mercedes sighed, 'but pretty soon you're going to push me to my limit and I'll end up shooting staples into your cell phone or stabbing your computer with my shoe or something.'

Sam couldn't help but laugh at the thought of that, even if his chest hurt at the thought of not seeing Mercedes every day. That was probably because he'd have to find another assistant, Sam decided. He already _knew_ that was a nightmare.

He sighed, knowing that he really _was_ powerless to stop Mercedes leaving if that was what she wanted.

'You'll have to find your own replacement.' Sam said finally, his eyes focussed dejectedly on Mercedes' black patent heels. 'And if you don't find one then I'm keeping you.' he warned, raising his eyes to Mercedes' so she'd know he was being serious.

'Understood.' Mercedes nodded once in the affirmative and uncrossed her legs to stand. 'I'll get right on that.'

She handed Sam the other cookie half (sans cream) and straightened her skirt before she turned and walked towards the office door.

'Was there anything else you needed, Sam?' Mercedes asked, her hands braced against the door frame. There would be something. There always _was_ with Sam, but to her surprise he just shook his head and shrugged.

'I can't think of anything right now.' he told her, his voice low. 'I'll let you know if I do.'

Mercedes frowned, but nodded as she disappeared out the door and went to go back to her desk.

Sam had lied. He _could_ think of something that he needed, but 'Stay' hadn't seemed an appropriate request given the circumstances.

'Her name is Quinn Fabray.' Mercedes handed Quinn's resume and references over to Sam but filled him in verbally anyway, knowing that he probably wouldn't get around to reading Quinn's credentials. 'She's very bright, was top of her class at Yale and the editor of the Law Review at her school. She did three years at Schuester & Schuester and then spent a year working for the DA's office. She'll be good for you.' Mercedes finished. 'Don't run her away.'

Sam nodded obediently. He'd been listening, but most of what she'd said had translated in his brain as ' _Not Mercedes. Not Mercedes. Not Mercedes_.' Who was going to eat the middle to Sam's Oreos now? Who was going to make sure he stayed bearable and demand that he call his family? Who was going to let him eat all her beetroot because she hated it so much, or enjoy all the asparagus he couldn't stand? Not to mention Mercedes kept him sane, he felt more human when she was around and she stopped him from turning into one of those greedy, corporation people she hated so much.

'You'll like her.' Mercedes insisted, catching the look on Sam's face. 'Give her a chance, ok?'

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 'Fine.'

Mercedes smiled warmly at him, and dropped a hand to squeeze his shoulder as she got up to show Miss Fabray in. 'Thank you.'

Quinn was… pretty. Beautiful, really, in that china doll way that the society women all seemed to strive for. Slender and blonde with green eyes that almost matched his own. She had a sweet voice, and she smiled a lot.

Mercedes asked most of the questions, and Quinn seemed to know the answers. They chatted about legal stuff for a while before Mercedes ended the interview with a glance at Sam.

'Thanks for coming, Miss Fabray.' Mercedes held out a hand for the blond to shake and Sam did the same, adding, 'We'll be in touch.'

'Thank you both.' Quinn enthused as she pumped their hands in turn. 'I'm such a big fan of Evans Enterprises, and of yours too, Miss Jones. Your piece on class and criminalisation in the Harvard Law Review was incredible, _truly_. It's actually why I decided to go work for the DA's office.'

Mercedes gave Quinn a small smile, but Sam knew her well enough to know she was actually flattered, and Quinn waved before she shut the door behind her and made her way out of the building.

Sam turned to look expectantly at Mercedes, waiting for her verdict. After a moment she sighed and turned to meet Sam's gaze.

'She could be good for you.'

Sam folded his arms on the table and checked the face of his Rolex watch.

'I'm sure she could be.'

Mercedes raised an eyebrow, 'Well? What do you want to do?'

Sam shrugged, 'She's fine. Hire her.'

Mercedes' brows furrowed at Sam's tone but she didn't argue.

'Ok then. I'll get personnel to draw up the contracts.'

Sam merely nodded, and Mercedes left the room in silence to contact Quinn and to go see the Human Resources staff. She thought Sam was acting weird. Weirder than usual, and it was bugging her. Mercedes only had a week to go before she left the company, and she'd done everything she'd set out to do. She should be able to just divorce herself from the job, and yet… _and yet_ … Sam was acting weird, and it was bugging her.

He was still acting weird at Mercedes' goodbye party the following Friday, but she tried not to pay attention to it when she saw how many people had turned out to see her off. She hadn't realised she was this popular before, but then again, when you're the one liasing between Sam Evans and the rest of the staff of Evans Enterprises, you do get to know a lot of people. These people would all be Quinn's friends soon, Mercedes realised. Some probably already were. The girl had been in for a couple of days already to learn the ropes and it was amazing how far a pretty face and a willingness to use it could get you. Mercedes had watched in awe as people had fallen over themselves to do things for Quinn they'd insisted Mercedes had to do by herself. That had rankled, but Mercedes had taken a deep breath, squared her shoulders and told herself that none of this was her problem anymore. She was no longer an employee of Evans Enterprises. She was finally free.

Sam sat in a corner nursing a plastic cup of juice as he watched Mercedes laugh and hug her co-workers goodbye. He had the uneasy sensation that this shouldn't be as hard as it was turning out to be. Sam hadn't been upset when any of his other assistants had quit, or been fired, so why did he feel as though someone was chopping off a limb now that Mercedes was leaving?

'Penny for your thoughts?'

Quinn Fabray slid into the empty seat opposite him, blocking Sam's view of Mercedes, and smiled prettily at him.

'Nothing much.' Sam leaned back in his chair and drained the juice, setting the empty plastic cup back on the table wishing that it had been laced with something stronger.

Quinn tilted her head to the side, her smooth face sympathetic. 'Are you sure? I know I've not known you as long as Mercedes has, but you _can_ talk to me, you know.'

She smiled again and Sam nodded, his eyes going past her to land on Mercedes' smiling figure again.

'Thank you, Miss. Fabray. That's very kind of you.'

Quinn waved the formality away with a dismissive hand.

'Please, call me Quinn! I expect we're going to be working very closely together in the future, so we might as well stop being so polite, huh?'

Quinn held their eye contact for half a second longer than necessary before she looked away, her attention going to the slice of cake on the paper plate in her hand.

Sam nodded again, only half listening as Mercedes came closer to their table. 'I'm sure you're right.'

'Right!'

Quinn beamed at him again and tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear as Mercedes came to a stop at the table next to them.

'Good luck with everything, Miss. Jones.' Quinn reached out her arms to wrap Mercedes in a hug as soon as the woman had turned around to their table. Sam's eyes met Mercedes' over Quinn's shoulder, and they both found themselves unable to look away until Quinn pulled away from the shorter woman and blocked Sam's eyeline again.

'When are you headed out?'

Mercedes blinked, trying to figure out what _that_ had been with Sam a moment ago, and reluctantly turned her attention away from her former boss back to the woman who was speaking to her.

'Um, in a minute, actually.' Mercedes admitted, checking her watch and realising that she actually had less time than she'd thought. 'I'm just saying my last goodbyes.' unintentionally, Mercedes' eyes flickered back to Sam's again, only to find that he was still looking at her with that unreadable expression on his face. He was playing with a piece of uneaten cake on a paper napkin in front of him and Mercedes had to fight the urge to ask him what was wrong. That wasn't her job anymore.

But he was acting so _weird._

As if sensing that maybe the two former colleagues would prefer to be alone for this moment, Quinn quietly excused herself and headed off to the other end of the room leaving Sam and Mercedes alone in the corner.

They looked at each other in silence for a few more seconds, and then Sam spoke.

'Could you…'

He stood abruptly, jerking his head in the direction of the small office kitchen and taking off in the direction of it, Mercedes trailing behind.

'What is it, Sam?' Mercedes asked once they'd reached the empty room. Her tone expressing the frustration she was feeling at Sam's strange behaviour.

Sam wet his lips, then scanned the floor, the walls, everything but her as he tried to find the words to express how he was feeling about her departure.

'I…' he began, shoving his hands in his pockets. 'I… am going to _miss_ you, Miss Jones.' he admitted finally, his voice sounding thick as he finally met her eyes with his own.

Mercedes felt the lump growing in her throat and tried to put a brave face on it. 'You never know, we might… we might see each other around.' She suggested, knowing even as she said it that it was unlikely, the two of them didn't exactly run in the same circles.

'No we won't.' Sam shook his head sadly, his eyes feeling watery all of a sudden. _Must be allergies,_ he dismissed as he fiercely blinked them away.

Mercedes didn't know what to say to that. They both knew he was right anyway.

'Well, there's the Motta Foundation Charity Ball.' she supplied, trying to lift the suddenly very somber mood. 'I'll see you then.'

'Right.' Sam nodded, perking up a little bit. 'The Motta Ball.' he took a deep breath, wondering if maybe he was about to cross a line. 'Listen, Mercedes… I-'

'Oh! I'm sorry!'

They both turned to see Quinn standing awkwardly in the doorway holding what was left of the leaving cake in her hands.

'I can… I can come back.'

Sam and Mercedes shared a short, wordless glance before Sam turned back to his new assistant with a tight smile.

'No, it's fine. Come on in, Quinn.'

Mercedes' eyes snapped up to Sam's face. It had taken them weeks to move past the "Mr. Evans"/"Miss. Jones" stage. Now it had been two days and Quinn Fabray was already on first name terms? Mercedes fought the bubble of annoyance that formed in the pit of her stomach and checked her watch again.

'Well, I best be going.' She held a hand out for Sam to shake. 'I guess I'll see you at the Motta Ball, Sam.'

'Oh, you guys are going to the Motta Foundation Charity Ball?' Quinn breathed from behind Sam, pausing in her cutting up of the cake to look dreamily at them. 'I hope you have fun. I've always wanted to go to one of those.' she fluttered her eyelashes at Sam and Mercedes narrowly avoided rolling her eyes. She was beginning to think that hiring Quinn Fabray had been a mistake, but it was too late now. Besides, no matter how much he seemed to want to convince her otherwise, Sam was a grown man, perfectly capable of looking after his own problems. If he wanted to date Quinn then it really wasn't any of her business.

The bubble of annoyance in her stomach got bigger.

'Well, I can assure you they're a lot more dull than they seem.' Sam said, smiling good naturedly at Quinn. 'I'm sure we could rustle up an extra ticket if you wanted to go, though.' he offered. 'Thanks to Miss. Jones here, we now do a lot of charitable work in collaboration with the Motta's, so it actually might be a good idea for you to see how it all works.'

Quinn's perfect smile widened to a beam. 'Wow, really? Do you think you could? That sounds amazing.'

Mercedes imitated Quinn's voice under her breath as she went to retrieve her box of belongings from where she'd stashed it under the sink.

'Well, I best be going!' she called out, in a voice about 500 times cheerier than she felt like being. The bubble in her stomach had somehow turned into a stone while Quinn and Sam had been talking.

'I guess I'll be seeing you, S- _Mr. Evans_.' Sam's eyes turned sharply to Mercedes' face, but she staunchly ignored the look he was giving her as she turned her attention to the other woman. 'Quinn.'

Mercedes nodded in the blonds' direction before turning to head out the door again.

'Oh, um, Mercedes?'

Mercedes stopped with one foot half out the door at the sound of Quinn's voice, and tried to fix her face before she turned around again. 'Yes, Quinn?'

'Um… _wow,_ this is awkward.' Quinn giggled, stepping closer to Mercedes to peer into the box of belongings she was carrying.

'It's just… that…' Quinn shook her head, shooting an embarrassed look at Sam before she turned back to point at an item in Mercedes' box. 'I'm pretty sure that's an Evans Enterprises clipboard.'

The blonde woman frowned, the picture of apologetic insincerity as she eyed up the offending item. _Really?_ Mercedes thought, plastering a polite smile on her face as she felt the stone in her stomach become a boulder, _this woman really wants to cause a fuss over a_ clipboard?

'I can assure you that it's mine, Quinn, but that kind of attention to detail will stand you in good stead working here!' Mercedes finished with a lame little laugh before turning to leave but again Quinn's voice stopped her.

'I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure that's a _Double 'E'_ clipboard.' the woman insisted, her eyes trained on the box in Mercedes' hands.

'You're _mistaken,_ Miss. Fabray.' Mercedes tried to turn her body so the contents of the box were out of view, but Quinn was taller and the woman seemed intent on checking to make sure.

'Quinn…' Sam's voice came out as a warning, but neither woman was paying attention to him.

'I'm just saying that if it _is,_ it belongs on _my_ desk.' Quinn was saying loudly, trying to reach for the clipboard, 'and it's technically _stealing,_ so…'

'I'm _not_ a thief!' Mercedes countered, her voice rising with offence.

'Mercedes isn't a thief, Quinn.' Sam said loudly, stepping closer to the two women before things could get out of hand. 'If it _is_ an Evans clipboard then she's _welcome_ to it…'

'It's _not_ an Evans clipboard.' Mercedes spat out, her eyes trained accusingly on Sam as she felt the hurt at his words wash over her. 'It's _not,_ and I _wouldn't_ steal from you.' She brought the box down lower and balanced it on one hand as she reached inside to pull out the item.

'But you know what? Here.' she slapped the clipboard to Sam's chest, her eyes registering how hurt she was in the brief moment that they met his before she turned on her heel and stormed out of the small kitchen.

'I… I'm sorry.' Quinn apologised, bringing a hand up to her chest as if to still her rapidly beating heart. 'I didn't mean to imply… I didn't realise that she'd be so attached to it.'

Quinn shrugged her slim shoulders apologetically as Sam stared dazedly in the direction Mercedes' had disappeared in, the clipboard still held to his chest.

He'd upset her.

He hadn't meant to. He'd been trying to diffuse the situation, if anything, but it seemed like it had only made things worse, and now he wouldn't see her again until the Motta Ball, which was a whole _month_ away.

'Miss. Fabray,' Sam said quietly, his voice measured as he slowly blinked in his senses. 'While I understand, and appreciate, that you probably felt that you had the company's best interests at heart, if I _ever_ hear about you making those kinds of unfounded accusations again then you're fired.'

Sam looked at the clipboard in his hands and gripped it tightly to his side as he took off for his office. It wasn't one of his. Actually, it had 'Mercedes Jones' scrawled artfully across the back of it. He clutched it tighter and smiled politely at the partygoers he passed. He chose not to rejoin them, he hadn't really much like celebrating all day.

Quinn's mouth snapped shut as she nodded at Sam's words, her eyes wide. After Sam had gone, though, she shot an accusatory look in what she assumed was Mercedes' direction.

The month had dragged - that was all Sam could say about it. The work got done, money got made and it had all passed ridiculously, painfully slowly.

He had it on good authority that Mercedes was back at Legal Aid now. Back to her causes and do-gooding. Sam wanted to roll his eyes at the thought of Mercedes' die-hard, bleeding heart liberalism, _wanted to._ But instead he found himself involuntarily marking the seconds, minutes and days until he'd get to see her again.

'Tina, I think I have a problem.'

The small Asian woman almost dropped the dish she was cleaning as Mercedes' words sank in. It wasn't the words themselves that were particularly revolutionary, it was that they were coming from _Mercedes_. Mercedes, the crusader, who didn't have to tell people about her problems because she already had about five alternate paths to a solution.

If Mercedes was admitting she had a problem then things were _bad._

 _'_ What is it?' Tina dropped the dish she was cleaning into the drying rack before guiding her friend to one of the wooden seats that took up half the tiny kitchen in the apartment she shared with her her husband, Mike.

'Is it drugs?' Tina questioned. 'Are you pregnant?' she gasped, a hand flying to her mouth as a thought occurred to her. 'Are you in love with an ex-con?'

Mercedes levelled a 'judging you' look at her best friend. 'No, no and no.'

She sighed and dropped her head to the small, wooden table pressed against the wall.

'I have this _feeling,_ and I don't know what it is but I don't like it.' Mercedes admitted, her voice muffled by the table and her hair, which had fallen around her face like a curtain.

'Well… is it an _in your pants_ feeling?' Tina asked carefully, pulling out the chair opposite and folding herself into it.

Mercedes looked up to shoot the woman a glare before dropping her head back down to her arms again.

' _No,_ it's _not.'_ Mercedes sighed. 'I think… I think maybe I _miss_ my _job_.' she screwed up her nose at the confession, not sure if it was what she really meant.

'You _hated_ that job.' Tina contradicted, reaching over to rub comfortingly at her friend's back. 'You were running yourself ragged for that job, and for your pain-in-the-ass boss.' Tina added, a dark look crossing over her usually cheerful features.

'I _know.'_ ' Mercedes groaned, not quite sure what it was she was trying to get across. 'I just… it feels… _strange,_ not being there. You know?'

It feels strange not talking to _Sam_ everyday she added mentally, but she knew that Tina wouldn't appreciate that.

'That's because you're not used to being _free!_ ' Tina enthused. 'You're still half-waiting for the phone to ring at 3 in the morning.'

Mercedes lifted her head and propped her chin up on the heel of her hand.

'I… guess.' She sighed and ran both hands through her hair. 'No, you're probably right.' Mercedes gave Tina what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

'Of _course_ I'm right!' Tina responded happily before getting up to make some tea.

Sam adjusted the black mask and headscarf in the mirror one more time before stepping back to admire the entire outfit.

The Motta's insisted on having a theme for their charity ball every year, and this year it was characters from movies. Sam straightened the black drawstring collar of his shirt and thanked God that Mercedes had picked his costume out months ago, knowing that he would forget otherwise. Quinn had wanted him to dress up as Snow White's Prince or something equally sappy and ridiculous, and Sam had been relieved when he'd been able to say that he already had a costume.

He pulled at the black leather boots for good measure before standing up to strap the slim rapier around his waist, smiling at his reflection in the mirror. Perfect. Mercedes really had picked the _best_ costume for him.

The driver had picked Sam up for the ball thirty minutes ago, (another of Mercedes' arrangements) and since he'd arrived he'd been standing by the bar with his eyes trained on the entrance. Quinn was already there, in some slinky black dress and a pair of cat ears she'd said was a Catwoman costume. She looked nice, and she was getting a lot of attention from the male partygoers already here, but Sam wasn't really one of them. His eyes kept drifting back to see if anyone else he knew had arrived yet.

 _Anyone else like Mercedes._

In the back of his mind, Sam wondered if his former assistant would even bother coming. It wasn't like they'd all parted on good terms, and Sam hadn't spoken to her since. Was it possible that she'd choose to forgo a party with him and Quinn and just never see him again? And why did the thought of that _hurt_ so much?

Sam sighed and took his glass of champagne over to where the stage had been set up for the musical acts and orchestra. The weather was nice, and the fairy lights nestled in amongst the ivy and roses twinkled prettily against the dark sky of the evening. The event was being held in a botanical garden, and the setting had already been the start of many a conversation, but it still felt empty to Sam.

Sam moved past the stage to watch the lights twinkling against the water in a large stone fountain, but a reflection in the water caught his eye, and when he looked up his gaze fell on her instantly.

She was talking to someone. Or rather, listening, and whoever they were they were taller than her, because her face was upturned, causing her hair to cascade down her back in large, loose curls that ended at her waist. Her dress was strapless, the green bodice ending in large, leaf-like swathes over the bodice, while thinner, gold and cream accents curled around her waist and under the leaves, seeming to end in a wide, swishy cream coloured skirt with a lily on her hip. She looked like a princess, and for some reason Sam had to remind himself to breathe as he took her in. As if sensing his gaze, Mercedes turned and met his gaze. Sam took that as an invitation to make his way over to her.

' _Princess Tiana_.'

Sam nodded courteously, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as Mercedes curtseyed and returned his smile.

 _'Dread Pirate Roberts_.'

They stood smiling at each other, neither knowing quite what else to say until Mercedes cleared her throat and said,

'The costume looks good on you.'

Sam felt himself blushing, and he was glad of the cover the mask and headscarf provided as he dipped his chin in thanks.

'And you look beautiful.' he told Mercedes genuinely, his eyes sweeping over the dress and the delicate tiara nestled atop her head. 'Truly stunning.'

Mercedes smiled, a cheeky glint in her eye as she clasped her hands in front of her.

'Why, thank you.' her smile widened as she added, 'I'm not making your head ache?'

Sam flushed again and shook his head.

'No… apparently not… and I'm sorry about that, by the way.' He smiled at her, and Mercedes shrugged as Sam offered her his arm to guide her back to the main party.

'Water under the bridge.' Mercedes smiled softly back at Sam as she slid a glove-covered hand through the crook of Sam's elbow and fell into step with him.

'How have you been?' Sam asked, breaking the silence between them as they neared the stage area.

'I've been good.' Mercedes smiled and nudged at his side playfully. 'You know, I haven't had to choose a tie in _weeks._ '

'Well, you were remarkably good at it.' Sam protested easily, covering her hand with his as they made their way to the bar.

'Champagne?'

'Thank you.' Mercedes accepted the glass Sam handed her with a grateful smile and took a sip.

'Listen, Mercedes…' Sam cleared his throat and watched as Mercedes took another sip of champagne, her eyes looking up at him through her lashes. He'd never realised how long her eyelashes were before. Jeez, were they even _real?_

 _'_ Sam?'

'Right, yes.' Sam licked his lips and took a sip of his own drink. 'I wanted to apologise for what happened the last time we met. I know it hurt you and…'

'It didn't hurt me.' Mercedes interrupted, her grip tightening around her glass.

'Mercedes, I know it did.' Sam said gently, thinking back to the look she'd had in her eyes as she'd slapped the clipboard to his chest and felt a familiar stab of guilt. 'I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, and I should have defended you.'

Mercedes' back stiffened, 'I can defend myself, Sam.'

Sam nodded, 'I know you can. You're very good at it, actually, perhaps _too good_ sometimes, but I…'

'What do you mean, 'too good'?' Mercedes interrupted, her eyes narrowing as she placed the champagne glass on the bar before turning back to give Sam her full attention.

'I mean that you do _this,'_ the blond pointed out, not bothering to skirt around the issue. 'The minute your feelings are brought up you tend to throw up these _walls_. But that's not the point I'm trying to…'

'You think I have _walls_?' Mercedes asked quietly, her eyes focussing on something else as she tried to think about what Sam was saying to her.

To her chagrin, Sam laughed. 'Mercedes, you are the most reserved person I have _ever met._ You're so careful! I think the only times I've ever seen you even a _little bit_ reckless are when you're fighting with me. Plus that one time with Quinn,' Sam speculated, 'you know, _before_ you started fighting with me.'

'I-' Mercedes' first instinct was to argue, but then she realised that in doing so would only be proving Sam's point, and she was finding it disconcerting enough that it was Sam that this was coming from.

' _I…_?' Sam quirked his head to the side, one corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile as he waited for Mercedes to finish her thought. Truth was he'd missed this, he'd missed teasing her and driving her crazy and getting a rise out of her - because it proved that the unflappable Miss Jones was human, and he _loved_ that.

'How about this, Miss. Jones?' Sam asked, feeling the remnants of his second glass of champagne joining the first in his empty stomach. 'I miss you.' he took a step closer to her, forcing her to raise her angry glare higher to keep her eyes on his face. 'Do you miss me?'

Mercedes eyes narrowed, but she trained her eyes on a point over Sam's shoulder as she spoke. 'No. I… I don't miss you at all.'

Sam raised a hand to lift his mask off his eyes and quirked an eyebrow at his former assistant. 'Do you think of me?'

'Only to think about how relieved I am that I don't have to be at your beck and call anymore.' Mercedes folded her arms across her chest and shot Sam her best frown.

'Not even when you have a craving for Double Stuf cookies?' he asked carefully, his head tipped to one side as he mirrored her pose. He didn't know why he was so desperate to hear her say that she'd missed him too, maybe because he wanted to know that he wasn't the only one wishing he still had a reason to pick up the phone and call her.

'You don't even miss me when you look down at your salad and see the lonely beetroot all pushed to the side on an otherwise empty plate?' he added, his eyes studying her face.

'Because I do.' Sam continued easily, not taking his eyes off of her. 'I miss you when all that's left on my plate is asparagus and I think to myself, 'If Mercedes were here…" Sam looked off into the night sky, remembering the cold feeling that had come over him the first time that had happened. 'Are you telling me you've never _once_ had that?' he questioned, his eyes serious on Mercedes' face. 'Was I really _that_ bad?'

'No!' Mercedes glared at him, trying to will him to stop speaking. 'You weren't that bad, ok? Not towards the end, at least. Yes, I missed you and I don't even tell the waiters to leave the beetroot out of my food anymore because for some, _dumb-ass reason_ , seeing it reminds me of you, ok? Are you happy now? Yes, I missed you.'

Mercedes rocked back on her heels, stunned at the tumble of words that had just spewed forth from her mouth. She hadn't meant to say any of that out loud. She'd never even admitted that stuff to _Tina,_ and yet here she was just laying it all out there in front of Sam. Mercedes grabbed for her champagne glass and downed the whole thing in a few big gulps before setting the empty glass back on the counter again.

Sam watched her, stunned, as his mind played over the things that she'd said. She missed him. Apparently even missed him the way that he missed her. Sam couldn't keep the smile off his face as he realised _that_.

'Don't laugh at me.'

'I'm not.'

'You're smirking.'

Sam shrugged and leaned against the bar to look at the Princess in front of him.

'Can't help it.'

'Try harder.'

Sam's smile grew as he fell back into their old argument patterns. Things with Mercedes were never boring. Even when she was driving him crazy, he still had fun.

'Now you're practically grinning!' Mercedes accused, a smile tugging at the corners of her own mouth.

'I know.' Sam said, looking delighted. 'Do you want to go to dinner sometime?'

Mercedes' already large eyes widened. 'Do I…'

'I mean, you don't have to, or anything.' Sam went on hastily, wondering where all that private school and Ivy League polish went when he talked to Mercedes. 'I just… I wasn't lying when I said I missed you.' he confessed, 'so maybe we could argue over dinner? I could order something with a lot of asparagus in it…'

Mercedes shook her head, a bemused smile splitting her face. 'You are a mess.'

'But you keep me organised.'

She rolled her eyes at Sam's line, but her smile didn't dim. 'I'm not coming back to work for you.'

Sam nodded, noting the conviction in her voice. 'I'm not asking you to.' He pointed out. 'I'm just asking you to dinner.'

Seconds later, Quinn showed up, her eyes flickering to Mercedes, whom she greeted with a tight smile before turning to Sam.

'You have to give your speech in ten minutes.' the blonde told Sam, pulling down the hem of her tight fitting dress as she handed Sam his speech notes and fussed unnecessarily with his clothes.

'I rewrote it without all the lame jokes and the impressions.' Quinn explained hurriedly as she began to usher Sam off towards the stage without so much as a backwards glance at Mercedes. 'No one wants to hear that stuff from the head of a major International company.'

Sam reached for Mercedes' arm, giving her elbow a quick squeeze before he leaned down to place a soft kiss on her cheek. His breath tickled the shell of her ear and he managed to whisper, 'Just think about it, would you?' before Quinn towed him away. He tried to check over his shoulder for Mercedes as he went, but he couldn't see her anymore.

His speech was dry as anything. Sam had liked the old one more, but he didn't give it more than a passing thought. He was more interested in finding Mercedes. He'd looked for her in the crowd but hadn't been able to see her, and when he'd come offstage he'd searched the whole grounds to no avail. Sam had dialled Mercedes' number so many times over the course of the last year that he didn't need any help remembering the digits and he inputted them with speed to shoot off a text to the missing woman.

 **I think you're taking this princess thing a little too literally, Miss. Jones. It's not even midnight yet! Sam**

He hit send and waited for a reply.

 **I'm not feeling too good. Probably the champagne… I'll think about what you said. Mercedes**

Sam shut off the phone with a sigh and grabbed another champagne flute from the tray of a passing waiter. He _knew_ Mercedes. She wasn't sick, she was running. From _him_. Sam sighed and quickly finished his third glass and replaced it on a passing tray before grabbing for his fourth…

'Tina?' Mercedes knocked on the door again and wrapped her arms tighter around herself as she waited for her friend to come to the door, which she eventually did, looking sleepy as she wrapped a blue flannel robe around herself.

'Mercedes?' Tina yawned and then got a good look at her friend, a beam erasing all signs of tiredness from her face. 'You look _beautiful.'_

'Thanks.' Mercedes smiled sadly, unable to dwell on the compliment in light of the realisation that had dawned on her at the Ball.

'Cede? What is it?' Tina tried to usher her friend inside, but Mercedes just shook her head and plonked herself down on the stoop outside Tina's door. The robed-woman sighed and disappeared inside the house for a moment, returning a minute later with one of her husband's oversized hoodies, which she wrapped around Mercedes' shoulders.

'Do you want to tell me what's wrong now?' Tina asked again, coming to sit down next to Mercedes on the stone steps outside her house.

'I think I'm in love with Sam Evans.' Mercedes admitted finally, her voice sounding flat as she turned to face her friend. 'How is that even…? I _can't_ be.'

'Oh, honey.' Tina wrapped her arms around the pseudo-princess on her doorstep and pulled her into a hug, suddenly understanding why her friend was so distraught.

'He stands for everything I hate!' Mercedes wailed into Tina's shoulder. 'He's the _CEO_ of Evans Enterprises Worldwide!' Mercedes went on. 'He wanted to _knock down_ McKinley.'

She looked at Tina with unshed tears shining in her eyes. 'I should want to run a _mile_ from this guy, and yet…'

'And yet you don't.' Tina finished, sympathy written all over her face.

 _'_ He's _annoying_. And _selfish_.' Mercedes complained. 'Well, not so much lately.' she amended with a sniff. 'He's actually been pretty good lately.'

Tina nodded. 'So, why do you think it's love?'

Mercedes shrugged and swiped at her nose, still not used to letting her feelings out in the open. 'Because… because I've been so miserable this past month.' she announced, hating that it was true even as she said it. 'And when I arrived at the party I sensed him looking at me and BAM! Instant happiness.' Mercedes looked the opposite of happy at this realisation.

'Then he said he missed me, and we got into this little argument and…'

'Wait.' Tina held up a hand. 'Go back. You argued? About what?'

Mercedes sighed and ran a hand over her hair. 'He said I'm really good at being defensive and that whenever I start to talk about my feelings I put these walls up and back away.'

Tina frowned, impressed by Sam Evans' insight, if not his timing. 'He's right, though. This is the most emotionally vulnerable I've ever seen you.'

Mercedes let out another forlorn sniff and turned big puppy dog eyes on her best friend.

'Do you think I'm cold?'

'Nooo!' Tina rushed to assure her friend that that wasn't what she'd meant. 'Did he tell you that?'

Mercedes shook her hear no. 'He said that the most emotional he's ever seen me is when I'm arguing with him.' Tina shrugged, she'd never met Sam so she couldn't say that, but Mercedes was getting emotional talking _about_ him, so she was inclined to agree.

'He asked me out to dinner.' Mercedes realised, leaning out of her friend's embrace. 'What do I do?'

Tina thought about it for a moment, her golden brown highlights glinting under the streetlights. 'I think you should tell him how you feel.'

Mercedes balked, but Tina kept talking. 'I know it's hard for you, but he deserves to know, and it's not like you'll ever have to see him again if he doesn't feel the same way. My guess is he does, though.' the woman volunteered. 'He told you he misses you, pointed out that he's been paying a _lot_ of attention to you over this past year and then asked you out to dinner.'

Mercedes mulled it all over in her head and reached up a thumb to try and clear any lingering wetness from her eyes. 'You really think so?'

'I'd say it was a good bet.' Tina nodded. 'Go talk to him. See how he feels.'

Mercedes nodded and turned to hug her friend, squeezing her to her in gratitude.

'Thanks, Teen.' Mercedes took in the bathrobe for the first time since she'd arrived on Tina's doorstep and flushed. 'I'm sorry I got you out of bed.'

Tina waved a hand. 'What was I doing in bed? Nothing! Reading Pride and Prejudice for the millionth time and pretending that my husband doesn't snore.'

'I don't snore!' Mike's head popped out the upstairs window and he waved down at them both. 'Hey, Merce.'

'Hi, Mike.' Mercedes gave him a little wave back.

'You snore like a freight train, Michael Chang!' Tina yelled up, one hand still placed delicately around Mercedes' shoulders. 'You can hear it from three blocks away! How do you think I knew you were listening this whole time?'

'Witchcraft!' Mike shot back before sticking his tongue out at his wife and ducking back inside, only to reappear again a few seconds later.

'Oh, and that Sam dude sounds like he's into you, Mercedes.' he offered, 'And I gotta be honest, I think he's good for you if he makes you examine your feelings more. You restrict yourself too much.' Mike lifted a shoulder in a shrug before going back inside and sliding the window closed, leaving Mercedes and Tina alone on the stoop again.

'I'm going to go tell him.' Mercedes said decisively after a moment spent watching leaves dance along the sidewalk. 'I'm going to go now, before I chicken out and/or the champagne wears off.' She squeezed her friend into a hug again before standing up and dusting off the skirt to her dress. 'Do you mind if I borrow the hoodie?'

Tina shook her head. 'Ah, no. Mike has so many, he can afford to live without one for a day or two.'

Mercedes smiled her gratitude before picking up her skirts and making her way over to Sam's building.

Luckily, the staff at the hotel Sam owned and lived in all knew who Mercedes' was. There was something to be said for being just as likely to have to wander through reception at 4am as you would at 4 _pm_ and Mercedes, being Mercedes, was on good terms with all of them.

'Hey Earl!' Mercedes waved to the night clerk as she breezed past the front desk to the elevator, pausing to say hi to the various security and concierge staff on duty at the time.

The elevator ride up to the penthouse suite seemed to take forever, and Mercedes found herself jiggling her legs and tapping her feet as she waited for the small car to make its slow descent up to the top floor. You needed a key to access it, and Mercedes was glad that she'd forgotten to turn hers in when she'd left Evans Enterprises. It meant that she could walk right up to Sam's front door and knock, instead of having to wait for someone to call up to Sam and then come escort her.

'Ah, that'll be room service!' she heard Sam slur through the door, and Mercedes had a moment to consider that _maybe_ now wasn't the best time to do this, before the door swung open to reveal Sam in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and one sock.

They both looked equally shocked to see each other, but Sam was the first to speak, -just her name - but it was enough to give Mercedes the courage she needed to continue with what she'd come here to say.

'Sam.' she smiled uncertainly at him before ploughing on. 'I was… I was thinking about what you said earlier, you know, about how I put these walls up? And I realised that you were _right._ I _do_ do that, but… no one has ever really called me out on it before. Before _you_ anyway.'

Mercedes took a deep breath and tried to peer past Sam, wondering why he hadn't invited her into his apartment yet. Sam, beginning to recover from the shock of having _Mercedes Jones_ standing in his doorway, stepped wordlessly to the side to let her through into his foyer. A voice in the back of his mind was saying that that was a very bad idea, but he couldn't think why, because it was _Mercedes_. In his _doorway_.

'Anyway,' Mercedes continued, her fingers fidgeting in front of her. 'I lied. I should admit that straight away, because I wasn't sick. I was trying to run away. From you, I guess.' a small nervous laugh escaped from Mercedes lips as she kept talking, dimly aware that this was probably the longest she'd ever gone without Sam interrupting her.

'Because the thing is, Sam, that I started to realise that I…'

'Was that the room service?' Mercedes felt her skin go cold as an all-too familiar voice echoed out from the room Sam had come from, and she felt like she'd been punched in the chest when Quinn Fabray appeared in the hallway behind Sam… _in her underwear_.

Sam guessed what was going through Mercedes' mind as soon as he turned and saw Quinn standing behind him, looking supermodel thin and slightly wicked with one hand on her hip and her cat ears still on her head.

'Mercedes, I swear it's not…'

'No. No, it's fine.' Mercedes took a faltering step backwards and then another as she slowly distanced herself from the half-dressed couple. She felt like she was going to cry, but she absolutely, would _not_ do that in front of Sam. Thank goodness she hadn't told him she loved him yet.

'Sam and I were just…' Quinn offered, and Sam shot her a glare when he realised that she wasn't trying to be helpful.

'It's fine!' Mercedes said again in that irritating, sunshine and rainbows voice she did when she was pretending not to be upset about something. 'I didn't mean to interrupt! I… I actually have to go myself. Because I, also, have a date. I'm, _uh,_ I'm _meeting_ my date… At my house. In my bed.'

 _God, she was a terrible liar_ , but Mercedes couldn't stop now that she'd started. She'd called the elevator, but it seemed to be taking twice as long to get here as it had to get her up here in the first place. Now Sam was in the doorway looking at her like he was trying to find the right words to say, and she _really_ didn't want to hear it, so she just kept talking.

'His name is Steve.' she went on, pulling the name out of thin air. 'Steve…' _crap! Steve what?_ 'Um, Steve Rogers…on, Steve Rogerson.'

Mercedes began to swing her arms awkwardly in front of her as she waited for the elevator to come.

'He's a soldier. So… you know, _abs.'_ Where the _hell_ was this damned elevator? Quinn had come further out into the hallway now, wearing an expression somewhere between apologetic and smug and not much else. She looked incredible, and Mercedes knew that even on her best days she would never look like Quinn Fabray did in underwear.

Well, if that was what Sam was into, then it was a good job she found out now, Mercedes told herself, _before_ she humiliated herself any more than she already had.

Finally, _finally_ the elevator arrived, and Mercedes stepped into it with a small, awkward wave. 'Gotta go, Steve's a-waitin'!'

 _Why was she talking like a cowboy?_

'And he's a soldier so… you know…'

Know _what?_

'…Um, time is precious.'

Sam still hadn't said anything and Mercedes sagged gratefully against the wall as the elevator doors finally slid shut and left her alone to deal with her hurt and embarrassment.

'I don't want to talk about it.'

Mercedes had had the day off work the day after she'd crashed and burned at Sam's apartment, but the instant she'd stepped through the doors of the Legal Aid office the day _after_ that,Tina had been on her to find out what had gone on. She'd cornered Mercedes now by a filing cabinet, and it seemed like only a miracle would inspire the woman to leave her alone until she'd gotten every last drop of information out of her best friend.

'You look sad.' Tina pointed out, noting that the light that usually danced behind Mercedes' eyes didn't seem to be there anymore. 'Did he hurt you? Cause I'll set Mike on him. I will!'

Mercedes managed a small smile and shook her head, her mind returning to the memory of Sam and Quinn together like fingers repeatedly prodding a bruise.

'Are you sure?' Tina pressed, 'because you know Mike loves you almost as much as I do, and together the two of us could probably do quite a bit of damage if you'd help get us off in court.'

Mercedes shook her head again, but reached over to give Tina an awkward squeeze over the top of the filing cabinet. 'He was with someone else.' she allowed finally, trying to shrug the pain away. 'It's fine, I'll get over it eventually.'

Tina's face fell, and the small woman looked like she was about to burst into tears on Mercedes' behalf.

'Oh, honey!' Tina reached over the top of the filing cabinet for another awkward hug, but it was interrupted when their colleague Kurt called back for Mercedes to come back to the front office.

'We were having a _moment_!' Tina chastised, glaring at Kurt as she and Mercedes stepped out from the back office, Mercedes clutching tightly to the file she'd gone in there to find.

'What's going on, Ku-'

'-rt.'

Mercedes' voice trailed off as she looked away from the stylishly outfitted brunette and caught sight of Sam standing in the middle of the Legal Aid office. The blond looked expensive, and gorgeous, and _completely_ out of place there.

She didn't say anything else, just turned on her heel to try to get away from Sam, but he quickly ran in front of her, holding his hands up to stop her progression.

 _'I'm sorry.'_

His green eyes were earnest on her face as Mercedes staunchly tried to avoid looking at him, but he kept talking regardless.

'That's not the only thing I want to say to you, but I figured I should probably start with that.'

Sam's frown deepened as Mercedes' continued to refuse to meet his eyes, but he stood his ground. He hadn't really wanted to do this with an audience, but he would if that was what he needed to do to get her to listen to him. The small Asian woman Mercedes had come out of the back room with looked particularly interested in what was going on. As did the porcelain-skinned guy who had hollered for Mercedes when Sam had first come in.

'I… I actually have something that I wanted to say to you, and you don't have to say anything back. I'm just asking for five minutes. Five minutes and then if you don't want to talk to me again I can just walk out that door and that'll be it. But, please, just… five minutes first?'

Mercedes folded her arms across her chest defensively, but a moment later her eyes flicked briefly to his and she gave a slight nod.

'Five minutes.'

Sam smiled, but not for long. He wasn't exactly out of the woods yet, and he had a _lot_ of explaining to do.

'I may have been drunk the other night, but I still took in everything you said. And I realise that you might have gone on to say something very important had things not… taken the turn that they did.'

Sam sighed, the words in his head suddenly not sounding right.

'I'm not…' he stopped and started again.

'Mercedes, I have been called self-absorbed, arrogant, career-driven, corporately greedy, cold, uncaring and selfish - among other things - numerous times in my past.'

Sam took a deep, fortifying breath before he went on.

'But you… you're the only person that made me take notice… take _stock_ of those things, and now I find myself wanting… _trying_ to be a better person. Not just for you, but because somehow, with you, I… I feel my own potential. I become aware of the man that I _could_ be.'

He ran a hand through his hair nervously. Mercedes' expression was still unreadable and Sam had no idea how she was taking any of this.

'I've found that over the past year, I've developed certain… _feelings,_ and despite my desire to be a better person, it seems that I'm still prone to moments of idiocy; like making up ridiculous excuses to call or see you at all hours instead of just _admitting_ that spending time with you… well, it's the best part of my day.'

Mercedes blinked hurriedly then, but the rest of her face remained impassive as she waited for him to continue, and Sam felt himself speeding up as he kept talking.

'This wasn't some grand design on my part, but…' Sam swallowed and licked his suddenly dry lips. 'I seem to have fallen in love with you, Miss Jones. And while I will understand if you want me to walk out that door and never see you again, please know that… for better or worse… you have become the little voice in my head that wills me to be a better man. And for that all I can do is thank you.'

There was a long pause after Sam finished talking and he felt his palms begin to sweat as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. Mercedes had her arms folded in front of her, and he _still_ had no idea how she was feeling about the whole thing.

'And I didn't sleep with Quinn.' He tacked on, realising that there really wasn't a nice way to add in that little detail.

'You didn't?' Mercedes voice was quiet and a little hoarse when she spoke, but Sam was just glad that she was speaking to him at _all_ after everything that had passed between them.

'No.' He shook his head adamantly, 'I didn't. We got horrendously drunk and played Strip Chess, which, by the way, that woman is a demon at. Do not play her for money.'

Mercedes took this information in, but couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes.

'Of _course_ she's good at it, Sam. She was a _National Chess Champion_.'

Confusion marred Sam's handsome brow. 'She was?'

Mercedes let out an exasperated sigh and dropped her arms from her chest, one hand going straight to her hip.

'It was on her resume. Did you even read it?'

Sam shrugged, a small smile on his lips. 'What was the point? You'd already told me the pertinent parts, and I didn't care anyway,' his voice lowered conspiratorially, and behind him both Tina and Kurt leaned closer to try and hear what he was saying. 'I already knew that she wasn't you.'

Sam smiled down at Mercedes, the relief of finally having all his cards out on the table crashing over him like a wave.

Mercedes opened her mouth to say something, and it was as if the whole room edged forward, eager to hear her response… and just at that minute someone came clattering through the doorway behind Sam and loudly announced that they were there for their appointment with Mercedes.

As if waking from a daze, Mercedes shut her mouth again, the smile that had previously graced her lips abruptly disappearing as she took a step away from Sam and turned to her client.

'Thank you for telling me.' she told Sam quietly, her eyes not reaching his face. 'But I guess our time's up.'

Sam stared down at her for a few moments, the double meaning of her words hitting him hard as it slowly dawned on him that this really was _it_ for them. He'd had his five minutes, and now he had to leave, just like he'd promised.

He nodded - not trusting his voice - and slowly backed out of the small office, wanting to keep Mercedes in sight until the last possible moment when he'd have to let her go. He paused in the doorway, the sun lighting him from behind, and caught Mercedes' eye one final time before the door fell shut behind him and he lost sight of her.

Mercedes stood staring at the empty doorway for a moment before she managed to drag her eyes away to lead the small, old woman who had an appointment with her to a chair.

'Did I interrupt something?' the woman asked, her voice a little too loud to compensate for her impending deafness.

'No.' Mercedes said, at the same time Kurt and Tina both chorused ' _Yes!_ '

Mercedes shot them a glare to remind them to be professional, but they both ignored her.

'The guy that left just now?' Tina explained, breathlessly scooting her chair over to fill in the old woman who had inadvertently intruded on the moment.

'He's in love with Mercedes.' Kurt interrupted, his own voice heady with excitement.

'He's her old boss.' Tina went on, 'and he just came in here to tell her that he'd fallen in love with her.'

'And he gave her this big speech about how she made him want to be a better person.' Kurt sang.

'And it was really romantic and beautiful.' Tina sighed wistfully, before fixing her best friend with a hard look. 'But Mercedes is letting him walk away.'

The small woman glared at her best friend accusingly. She knew what Kurt didn't, that Mercedes had fallen for Sam just as hard, and Tina was certain that the only reason she was letting him go now was because of some misplaced principles.

'Why would you do that, Sweetie?' The old woman, whose name was Mrs. Masterson, turned curiously to Mercedes. 'Don't you love him back?'

Mercedes felt her cheeks heat up as all eyes in the room turned to her.

'It's not that I don't- I don't _not_ lov-… It's… It's _complicated_.'

Mrs. Masterson raised an eyebrow. 'Why? You two related?'

Mercedes' blush deepened. 'No.'

'Is he married?'

' _No!'_

The old woman thought for a moment. 'Is he only trying to get with you because he has some kind of fetish?'

Mercedes' eyes widened to saucers. 'No, he is not!'

The woman shrugged and clutched the purse on her lap tighter to her chest.

'Then what the heck is it?'

Mercedes tongue felt like lead in her mouth as she tried to explain.

'He runs a corporation… and my whole life I've been taught not to trust…'

The old woman made a derisive noise in the back of her throat and waved a hand to cut Mercedes off.

'Bullshit.'

Mercedes stopped speaking, offended. 'I beg your pardon?'

The old woman leaned forward primly and repeated her words slower.

'Bull. Shit.' She leaned back in her chair to regard Mercedes cooly. 'The man that just walked past me was just that: a man. He wasn't a building, he wasn't a bank balance, he _wasn't_ a corporation. He was a **man -** who looked incredibly hung up on _you,_ might I add. _'_ Mrs. Masterson went on. 'And it seems to me that this "he works for a corporation" stuff is just stuff and nonsense. If he used to be your boss then doesn't that mean that _you_ used to work for a corporation too?'

'I was doing it to save…' Mercedes protested weakly, but Mrs. Masterson went on, not stopping for anything.

'Which leads me to believe that you're just running scared, Missy, because you don't think you know how to be in love.' Mrs. Masterson pursed her lips and looked Mercedes up and down. 'I may be old, child, but I'm not blind yet! If looks are anything to go by, then you love him just as much as he loves you, and quite frankly, life's too short. I'm going to reschedule my appointment with this nice young lady here.'

Mrs. Masterson smiled kindly at Tina, the corners of her eyes crinkling and sending a web of lines creasing along her face.

'Because I'm cancelling this one, and I suspect that _you_ have somewhere to be.'

The old woman opened her purse and rummaged through it until she found a piece of candy, unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth.

Mercedes watched her dazedly for a few moments, her mind working to process everything that had been said.

'I… I guess, it wasn't _perfect_ , but… Sam's speech actually _was_ kind of perfect, wasn't it?' Mercedes said out loud, more to herself than anyone else. She was surprised when not only Tina and Kurt, but several of the clients filling out forms in the office all answered her with various forms of ' _YES!_ ' and ' _I would have been out there_ _already'_ s.'

Mercedes blinked. Once, then twice, and then she was up out of her seat and taking off towards the office door at a trot, yanking it open and scanning the street hoping to catch a glimpse of Sam's tall, blond head.

Sam's legs were a lot longer than hers, but sheer willpower propelled Mercedes towards him as soon as she spotted him some ways down the road. She trotted part of the way towards him, before yanking off her heels and breaking into a run with them in her hand, dodging around passersby as much as she could and intermittently calling out apologies to the ones that she clipped. All the while she had Sam in her sights, but she didn't call out his name until she was only a few feet behind him, her breath coming out in short, ragged bursts as she tried to get his attention.

 _'Sam!'_

He froze, hands in his pockets as his whole body stilled, but he didn't turn, didn't dare believe that she'd really come after him.

'Could…' Mercedes bent at the waist, her hand clutched to her side as she fought for air. 'Could you turn…'

Sam began to pivot towards her obediently, slowly, not wanting to disturb the mirage if that's what She was. He didn't think so though, especially after she shoved him in the shoulder.

'Did you have to walk so friggin' _fast?_ '

The corner of Sam's mouth turned up in a smile when he caught sight of Mercedes' flushed face and the slight heave of her bosom as her breathing returned to normal.

'Sorry. Didn't realise you were that out of practice with keeping up with me.'

Mercedes returned his teasing smirk with one of her own. 'You had a headstart.'

They stood in silence for a minute before Sam spoke. 'Did you…'

'You know,' Mercedes interrupted, her eyes intent on his face. 'When I was a kid, my parents would tell me made up fairy stories that basically boiled down to the idea that big corporations were evil. Then, when I got older and I _begged_ to hear the same fairy stories as all the other kids, my parents relented, but would only read me the original versions, the ones where the prince isn't all that charming and the bad guys meet horrible, gory ends.'

Mercedes sighed and dropped her shoes on the pavement to slide her feet back into them, accepting the steadying arm Sam held out for her gratefully as she continued talking.

'The point being, that I was always taught not to trust the things in the shiny, pretty packages… And then _you_ came along, and you're pretty much everything my parents taught me to distrust, and when I started working for you it seemed like that was all true.'

Sam winced, but stayed silent.

'But then… then I stopped working for you, and I _realised_ something.' Mercedes sighed and pulled her hair around her neck so it fell over one shoulder.

'I _hated_ the job, but I _liked_ you.' she took a deep breath. 'Which, admittedly, freaked me out. I mean, by rights I should _not_ like you. At all. On paper you're pretty much my direct opposite, but weirdly, that kind of _works_ for us. Because you _are_ my opposite, but you're like, my _perfect_ opposite - like a puzzle piece - and while I know I don't need you, or anyone else, to complete me. You seem to bring out the shades and hues of me that I… I had trouble seeing before… and I know I just mixed my metaphors, but you know what I mean, right? Because-'

Mercedes sensed that she was babbling now, so she clamped her mouth shut and took a deep breath before continuing. Sam had his head tilted to the side as he listened patiently, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

'Because…?' Sam prompted, and Mercedes caught her lip between her teeth as she studied his face. A year ago he would have walked off, or interrupted her if she'd talked this long. Now here he was standing there waiting patiently for her to finish her rambling thought. He really _had_ changed.

'Right.' Mercedes said, snapping herself out of her regard with the sound of her own voice, although her eyes never left Sam's.

'The point is…' she took a deep breath and decided to throw caution to the wind. ' _Screw_ expectations.'

Mercedes stepped forward and pressed her lips against Sam's, her hands coming up to grab the lapels on his tailored suit jacket so she could pull him closer, and his arms wrapped automatically around her waist. All external sounds seemed to blend together until all either of them could sense was the rushing in their ears and the fireworks behind their eyes, coursing through their veins and the simple, hot pleasure of the feeling of their bodies pressed together.

By the time Mercedes pulled away, Sam looked thoroughly ravished and his facial expression made him look like Christmas had come early.

'I think I've fallen for you, too, Sam.' Mercedes admitted, standing on tiptoe to wipe some of her lipgloss off Sam's face. 'Now come here and kiss me some more.'

She yanked him back to her again and Sam grinned as he dutifully pulled the small, curvy woman harder against his body, stroking greedy hands down her spine towards her ass.

He had a feeling that his not being Mercedes boss anymore was going to work out very well for them indeed.


End file.
